


in this twilight

by mandalorianed



Series: chiaroscuro [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Brotherly Bonding, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandalorianed/pseuds/mandalorianed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night is lying heavy on Gotham, and there are two formerly dead Robins perched on a roof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in this twilight

**Author's Note:**

> Time is irreparably broken in comics, but this takes place roughly in the Rebirth era. Damian's characterization is drawn primarily from ROBIN SON OF BATMAN, Jason's is mostly from UNDER THE RED HOOD and the rebirth RED HOOD AND THE OUTLAWS. Title is taken from "Broken Crown" by Mumford and Sons, AKA the most Damian Wayne song of all the Damian Wayne songs.
> 
> I apologize for any typos. I wrote this at 3AM and proofread it this afternoon, but I may have still missed a few things.

There’s a full moon hanging grimly over Gotham, shading the streets into a chiaroscuro of bright light and heavy shadow. In the street below, there’s a pair of would-be rapists. One is slumped on his face in the gutter, his hands ziptied behind his back. The other is hanging by his feet from a lamppost, bound up in dark nylon cords. That one had been Damian’s doing, but Jason will own to getting no small amount of satisfaction from watching the man squirm.

“I should have accompanied her the rest of the way home,” Damian says from where he is leaning beside Jason on the edge of the roof.

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches.

“I don’t think she’d’ve appreciated that, kid. I offered, she said no. She wouldn’t want to look around and see you skulking on a rooftop.”

A small huff of exasperation.

“Like I’d be so careless as to let her see me.”

Jason laughs, and finally relaxes enough to sink from his crouch into a proper sitting position, crossing his legs.

“That’s really not the point.”

Damian, still leaning on the edge of the rooftop with his eyes trained on the street, lets out a small dismissive noise. The silence stretches, unbroken except for the quiet creaks of nylon rope against lamppost and the muffled grunts of the gagged man below them.

“Anyway,” Jason says, finally. “Why’re you on this side of town tonight in the first place. This is generally a bat and bird free zone, and I happen to like it that way.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I see you about to be knifed by a common street thug.”

“I had it handled.”

Damian crosses his arms. “You did not.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

There’s a faint creak of Kevlar as Damian crosses his arms more tightly. Then a sigh.

“Father has… benched me.”

There’s a faint twist to his lip as he says it, and Jason has the distinct feeling that those were Dick’s words, not Damian’s.

“Oh, so you snuck out,” Jason says, chuckling. “You’re gonna give me a run for my money as the bad Robin.”

“I believe I already have.”

There’s a sharp, bitter edge to the words, and Jason looks over at him, but Damian’s face is hidden in the shadows of his hood.

“Kid,” he starts, but Damian stops him with a sharp gesture and an exasperated hiss.

“Don’t bother,” he says.

Which is just as well, because Jason hasn’t the faintest idea what he was going to say anyway. He had never killed anyone when he was wearing the red and green and yellow, that had come later. Besides, even though the kid doesn’t use it much anymore, Jason still remembers the way he carried that katana. He had carried it the way Jason carries his guns, like it’s heavy with more than just the weight of metal. Like drawing it is a promise.

Damian’s voice draws his attention again, although it’s so quiet that he almost misses it.

“Just a warped little bird,” he mutters, and there’s something about the cadence that says that he’s quoting someone, like it’s something someone said to him once.

Jason turns towards him, and finds him the same as before, one foot up on the raised edge of the rooftop with his elbows resting on his knees. But he’s curled in on himself a little bit, isn’t standing so tall and proud as he had before. His cape has fallen closed, black hiding the bright red of his uniform. And the thing is, Jason still has no idea what to say to him. He knows how to carry his own burdens, but he’s not sure he knows how to teach someone to bear up under that weight.

In the end, he just reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulls out a cigarette, and lets it hang loose between his lips as he digs out his lighter. The hiss and crack of the flame, a single long drag, and then the sharp heat of the smoke as he breathes it back out. He doesn’t look at Damian, but he does offer him the smoke. Bruce would kill him if he knew, but, he supposes, that isn’t that different from the usual.

“Really,” Damian asks, voice dry. “You’re offering the thirteen-year-old a cigarette.”

Jason looks up at him. He’s aiming for innocent, but he’s almost positive that he’s smirking.

“What, you don’t want it?”

Damian tsks dismissively but carefully plucks the cigarette from where it’s hanging loosely between Jason’s fingers. His hood is still casting heavy shadows on his face, but when he takes a drag, the glow of the lit end briefly brings the planes of his face into sharp definition, and all Jason can think is that even if it’s the price you pay for wearing these uniforms, no kid should ever look so rundown.

He lets out the smoke in one long, thin stream, and only then lets out a slight cough, quickly stifled. Jason chuckles quietly, takes the cigarette back from him.

“That’s better than I did when I had my first cigarette. I thought I was gonna hack up a lung.”

Damian gives a disparaging kind of sniff, and then says, “Well, I am superior to you in just about every way, Todd.”

“Fuck straight off,” Jason says, laughing and elbowing Damian sharply in the knee.

He stumbles a little bit, but it doesn’t put him off balance enough to keep him from lashing out towards Jason with his foot. The steel toe of his boot catches Jason on his bicep, and he rolls away, still laughing. The red and blue flashing lights of an approaching squad car are reflecting off the street now, as the GCPD finally responds to whoever had decided to call in the pair of unlucky criminals below. The lights are playing across Damian’s face too, now. His hood has fallen back, and there’s just a hint of a smile—a real smile, not that nearly omnipresent smirk he wears—playing across his lips. He’s standing over Jason, offering him a hand up, and Jason takes it and smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Be the Damian and Jason brotherly bonding content you want to see in the world, I guess.
> 
> The “warped little bird” comment is a Joker quote from Batman and Robin #15. I had to go back to double check the wording, and I’d forgotten how horrifying that issue is. Like, it’s good. It’s just also horrifying.
> 
> Anyway, I might do another one of these with Cassandra Cain, since I’ve always felt like Damian would get on best with Cass and Jason, but we’ll see how things go.


End file.
